


And If Your Heart Stops Beating

by feverbeats



Series: Back To School [2]
Category: Bandom RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've been having dreams, haven't you?" Patrick asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If Your Heart Stops Beating

**Author's Note:**

> The second (and perhaps last) story in the Buffy AU.

Pete loves back to school. His new backpack is full of new notebooks and new pencils and a new lunchbox filled with those little cheese-and-cracker things. He's wearing a new outfit and he looks fucking _fantastic_. Being the football team's quarterback is kind of like being king of the world.

Pete winks at himself in the mirror before he leaves for school.

School is pretty much the same as ever. Lindsay, Ashlee, William, and Kelly still look scorchingly hot in their cheerleading outfits. Avril still won't join the squad.

Pete skips last period to watch them practice in the gym. William smiles at him like Pete's won the lottery and he winces. He's got stop checking William out. Apart from being a guy, William is the second most popular guy in school, as well as being Pete's best friend.

A few weeks into the school year, William sits down next to Pete in the lobby during lunch, long legs stretched out under the table. "Guess what?" he says.

Pete sighs. He doesn't really want to hear the latest about Justin and Britney. "What?" he asks noncommitally, messing with his sandwich.

"Everyone says you're fucking Mikey Way," William says with a huge grin.

Ok, so, not about Justin. Pete makes a face. "That's not true." Um. It is true. It's not really that Mikey's a loser so much as that his brother is. Dating the infamous Gtard Gay's brother is beyond uncool. Pete sighs deeply. His rep is being called into question.

William sighs, too. "Peter. Peter Wentz. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III. You are gay for Mikey Way." He smiles again, apparently heartened by this cruel pronouncement.

"Um," Pete says. Arguing with William is hard, because he's so fucking distracting. He keeps smiling that smile and going off on weird tangents. Pete grinds his teeth and doesn't lie.

"Well," William says briskly, "I'm not really surprised. You're together so much. And any guy who wears as much eyeliner as you do is of suspect orientation, no matter how much football he plays."

Pete puts his head down on the table. His life, so hard. He does not want to talk abut it, and he says so.

William smiles knowingly. "Of course not. You know, you could have _told_ me you were gay."

Pete turns his head before he can see the look he knows is in William's eyes. There'll be that blinding smile, and then just a tiny hint of genuine hurt. This would be so, so much easier if William didn't have a thing for Pete. Pete tries to pretend he doesn't feel like shit about it, about checking William out, about letting him hold his hand. Pete knows it's not fair or anything, but he's bad at stopping things. Thankfully, he doesn't have to deal right now, because the utterly fabulous (and incredibly short) Jon Walker strolls over.

Jon Walker is one of the few guys in William's marvelous clique. He doesn't even look like he fits, really. His jeans are too loose and he wears those stupid flip-flops. Pete likes him, though, because he seems to have mastered the art of being easy-going, something which is still a complete mystery to Pete.

"Hey," Jon says, sitting down next to William. William immediately twines his arms around Jon. Pete rolls his eyes. "Oh, whatever," Jon says. "You're just mad that I can pull off these jeans."

Pete kinda is, but he doesn't say so.

"Oh, hey, don't look now," William says, tugging on Pete's sleeve, "but your love-toy's big brother is headed our way."

Gerard Way is a fucking weirdo. Everyone in the entire school pretty much takes that for granted. He makes creepy art and he has lame hair and he draws on his hands with pens and he probably kills people or something.

Pete can't freak out any more, because Gerard is standing next to their table, looking awkward.

William's smile goes mean around the edges. "Hey, _Gerard_."

Gerard frowns behind his swishy, greasy black hair. "Shut up. Dickhead." He pauses awkwardly, like he doesn't remember why he came over here. Pete clamps his jaw down over an insult. He's dating Mikey. He shouldn't still treat Gerard like shit. Five seconds later, though, he changes his mind when Gerard regains his sense of purpose. "Listen, Wentz," he says in that stupid nasal voice, "if I find out that the rumors about you fucking around with Mikey are true, I will personally _kill you_."

William laughs sharply.

"No," Gerard says, "_Really_. I am not joking. I will kill you. I will come to your house and stab you in the eye with a pen. I am not fucking kidding here."

Pete never thought he might be kidding. He's is pretty sure Gerard doesn't know that the rumors are _sex_ rumors. William has a monopoly on the rumor mill, and he's into doing Pete favors. Still, even if Gerard just thinks Pete's been bugging Mikey, he could flip out. He looks dead serious. And crazy. William, however, laughs again. "Hey, Gerard," he says, "is it true you _fuck_ your brother?"

Gerard goes completely red, and Pete feels his stomach twist a little. He clamps down on the feeling and says, "_I_ hear you fuck dead people."

"Fuck off," Gerard mutters. "Someone's going to kill you someday, Pete."

Pete tries not to shiver. Fucking _weird_.

William beams at Gerard. "Why don't you just go cut yourself in the bathroom? Again."

Instead of blushing, Gerard pales this time. "Fuck you," he whispers.

"And paint an ugly picture with the blood," William continues happily.

Gerard stares at him for a second before swinging around and stalking back over to his table. William laughs. "God," Pete says.

"I know," William says, slinging his arms around Jon again. "He's pathetic."

"Yeah," Pete says.

*

Patrick Stump is not happy. There just isn't any good that can come from teaching computer science to a bunch of high schoolers, never mind that he isn't ever properly certified. The Watcher's Council may have been able to get him into this, but he severely doubts they can get him out if he asks. Plus, the principal seems to completely hate him. He sighs and prays that the Slayer is easy to handle.

To be honest, he really has no idea what having a Slayer will be like. He can't talk to a high school girl. He can barely talk to _people at all_. They won't have anything in common. She won't want to talk about _Star Wars_ and tea and he won't want to talk about hot boys and B-movies.

He sighs deeply and pushes open the lobby doors. He's been given specific instructions on how to recognize the Slayer, so he just has to look around. Black hair, tips dyed red, wears hoodies (whatever those are), very short . . . Hey. Patrick blinks at the boy who's sitting half-way across the lobby. No way. That doesn't . . . There can't be a male Slayer. It doesn't make any sense. Yeah, and maybe red tips are really in this year.

He gets closer and decides that whoever chooses Slayers was probably confused by the eyeliner. Or the hangs-all-over-boys bit. The really short kid with red-tipped hair is grinning and leaning all over the tallest boy Patrick's ever seen. A scruffy kid in flip-flops is trying to get in on the action. Patrick is suddenly nervous. How is he going to _tell_ the kid? They didn't teach him _this_ at the Academy.

Clearing his throat, he steps up and taps the kid on the shoulder. "Um."

The kid turns around. "Hi? Whoa, hello argyle."

And ok, now Patrick's annoyed. Is the Slayer a _jerk_? He doesn't want a jerk. "Um," he says. "I'm Mr. Stump. I'm your new computer science teacher."

"Ahaha. No," the Slayer says. "I don't take computer science."

_We'll see about that_, Patrick thinks. "You do now. It's now _required_." He uses every inch of the very faint British accent he's acquired while at the Academy.

The Slayer stares at him for a second, his mouth perfectly round. Patrick wonders for a second if he's _staring_ at the goddamn Slayer's _mouth_, but he decides he's not. "You," the Slayer says, "kind of suck, Mr. Stump. No offense."

The very tall boy flashes Patrick a brilliant smiled. It says, _owned_.

Patrick sighs. Here goes. "I need to speak with you. Privately."

The Slayer tosses his bangs almost self-consciously. "Ok, cool." He shoves the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth, half-waves to his friends, shrugs one shoulder at the taller one, and turns to face Patrick. "Let's do it."

Patrick tries not to get flustered. "Um, this way," he says.

He leads the Slayer to the computer lab, his own little nook of the school. It's not too shabby, as computer labs go. At least Patrick can hide from the kids in here.

The Slayer stands in the doorway, looking awkward, as though he's never been in here before. "Listen," he says after a minute, "Did you want anything special? Or am I just that famous?"

_You will be_, Patrick thinks. This kid's a jerk, but there's something about him Patrick can't quite put his finger on yet. He wonders if this whole football jackass thing is just a front.

"You're staring at me," the Slayer says, and Patrick realizes what it is. Any other teenage footballer would be an asshole, would mean it. The Slayer looks almost flattered at the attention, like it's something he _needs_. Patrick realizes how desperately he wants to be part of this Slayer's life.

He takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you something." That's always been his opening line for everything, from telling people he likes them to telling them it's over, and it's never a good idea.

The Slayer cocks his head. "Do I have an STD?"

_No, you little shit_, Patrick thinks. "The thing is," he says, "You, uh, have a destiny. You–"

"A destiny," the Slayer interrupts. "That's like an STD."

Patrick almost laughs. It's kind of _true_. But if he lets the Slayer get away with anything, they'll never get through this. "No," he says, "Not exactly. You see, into each generation"–ohgod, is he really doing the monologue?–"a Slayer is born. One . . . person in all the world, a chosen one."

The Slayer looks amused for the first time. "You changed it, didn't you?"

Patrick blushes. "How did you know?"

"It was obvious," the Slayer says. "Continue."

Patrick sighs. "Ok. So. The Slayer is the only one with the strength and skill to fight the vampires. And demons. Um."

"Oh man," the Slayer says, "I'm gonna want to punch you in the face, aren't I?" But there's something in his face which isn't laughing.

"You've been having dreams, haven't you?" Patrick asks. He hates to do this.

He hates it even more when all the color goes out of the Slayer's face. "Hey," he says, "You can't _do_ this to me. You, you haven't even asked my _name_."

"Um," Patrick says.

"Pete," the Slayer says. "Pete Wentz. And I don't want to hear any more crap about Slayers." He spins around and walks out of the room too fast.

*

After school, though, when Patrick is on lobby duty and wondering what the hell he's supposed to do now, Pete wanders over to him. Oddly enough, he seems to have forgotten their earlier encounter. "Hey," he says, "Can I stand here?"

"Um, sure," Patrick says.

Pete leans on the soda machine, looking less angry than before. "So."

Patrick doesn't know how the hell to break the ice, and damn it, Pete is taller than him. It would be intimidating if Pete didn't come off so . . . Patrick isn't sure yet. Almost ingratiating, maybe. He looks at Pete. "So," he echoes. Ok, maybe he should just . . . "I kind of thought you'd be a blonde cheerleader."

Pete grins, and it's amazing. "I guess I'm the male equivalent. Not the way William is." He gestures toward the tall boy Patrick saw earlier. The boy is now making a very sincere face as he talks to someone Pete identifies as the Australian transfer student. "And the other guy I was sitting with is Jon," Pete says. He trails off as he notices a very skinny, nerdy-looking kid standing awkwardly by the door. "That's Mikey Way," Pete says, "and we're _not_ fucking."

"Um," Patrick says, "Ok." But his brain is going _what? WHAT?_

Pete glares. "No, really. I don't _even_ care. We're not."

Patrick has a headache. "Ok. I believe you." The Slayer is kind of terrifying. Which is the point, probably. He sighs. "Do you believe me yet?"

Pete shakes his head. "You see these kids?" He gestures around the lobby. "These are my friends. This is my life. You can't do this to me," he says again. "I've gotta go, I have a date to get ready for."

"Wait, hey, before you go," Patrick says, feeling desperate. Has a Slayer ever refused to be the Slayer before? He fishes a pen out of his pocket. "Here's my number, in case you change your mind."

Pete almost jerks away when Patrick touches his hand. His palm is soft, but he has small callouses on his fingertips. It takes Patrick a second to remember his number.

*

Pete ends up pacing his room all afternoon, shaky and upset. This is _bullshit_. It doesn't even make sense. But they don't let crazy people become teachers, and even crazy people can't know what you've been dreaming about. He decides to throw something against a wall and not think about it anymore.

That evening, he meets up with Mikey behind the school. It feels weird, these dates, or whatever they are. Pete knows he's fucked if anyone catches him with Mikey Way, the biggest loser in _ever_, except for Gerard. He feels like shit for thinking that makes it even hotter when he sneaks a kiss against Mikey's collarbone. He feels Mikey shiver. "Hey, Pete."

Pete wonders if Mikey knows how he feels about this. Mikey isn't stupid, which makes Pete feel even worse. There are ways he can make up for it, of course, but those kind of really don't help. He can slip his hand under Mikey's skinny jacket and run his fingers over his hips, but that just makes him feel sorrier for Mikey.

Pete leans against him, breathes him in. "Do you ever feel . . ."

Mikey half-turns against Pete, expectant, almost scared. Pete desperately wants to say something that will show Mikey that they're the same. But Mikey can't be the "Slayer." _One person in all the world_, Mr. Stump said.

"Nothing," Pete whispers. He feels Mikey's mouth curve in a frown. Pete should try talking more when they're together. That might help.

*

The next day, Pete avoids Mikey as much as he can. He needs time, or space, or something. He needs to tell William that he couldn't get to sleep last night because he didn't want to dream about driving a stake through a stranger's heart.

After school, he goes to Mr. Stump's fucking computer lab and slams his books down on one of the tables. "Ok, Mr. Stump, You win. I can't just _never sleep again_. You can come to my place after school."

Mr. Stump looks vaguely concerned. "Um," he says. "Ok. Great. You can call me Patrick."

Pete feels himself grinning suddenly. Maybe this won't be so bad. "So," he says, "If I'm the Slayer, what the fuck are you?"

"I'm your Watcher," Patrick says.

As soon as Pete gets home, he takes a cold shower, gritting his teeth the whole time. Weird fucking week.

*

Patrick is at Pete's door (Pete _texted_ him his address, what the hell) before he realizes how nervous he is. He's always been vaguely aware that being _the_ Watcher is a massive responsibility, but now that he actually has to train a Slayer, it seems so much more impossible. He bites his lip and knocks.

Pete opens the door almost immediately. "Hey," he says, smiling. "C'mon in. Nice hat."

Patrick can't help himself, he smiles back. Pete's suddenly totally fine with a weird quasi-English guy showing up and telling him he's the Slayer. Maybe Pete read too much bad YA vampire fantasy in middle school or something. Patrick wants to tell him not to talk to strangers, not to _believe_ people.

He wants to make him stop being the Slayer. Slayers die young, every fucking time. What would the Council do if a Slayer lived beyond the point of usefulness? Patrick doesn't want to think about it. He also doesn't want to think about Pete dying. Well, he'll just have to make Pete the best Slayer the world has ever known. "Hi," he says, "I'm gonna make you awesome."

Pete laughs, sudden and surprised and genuine. "I, thanks," he says.

Patrick looks around the kitchen. It's nice, suburban, nothing special. He sighs. Maybe all the Slayers have such ironic, short lives. He shifts nervously. "Won't your parents mind?"

"That's what they all say," Pete says, and he winks.

Patrick swallows. _Ok_. A cheerleader would have been less off-putting.

"Sit," Pete says. "Or just stand around awkwardly. That's cool too. I'm gonna make us some Easy Mac. Tell me about being the Slayer. I might even believe you." He turns around and starts digging stuff out of the cupboard.

Patrick takes a seat at the table and watches Pete. He's short, for a Slayer. Of course, Patrick has only see photos of _female_ Slayers. Maybe it's different for boys, and you can only be a male Slayer if you're pocket-sized. He watches Pete happily toss the cheese packet down on the counter and smiles. "So," he says. "Let me tell you about being the Slayer.

Pete seems like he's listening, sort of. He nods, and sometimes he goes still when Patrick tells him something. All in all, though, he takes it amazingly well. Better than Patrick would. Just as he's finishing up with the important stuff, Pete sets two bowls of mac and cheese down on the table very emphatically. "Ok," he says, "My turn. You told me about this fucking crazy world you're throwing me into. Payback time."

"Yeah, right," Patrick says, taking a bite of the mac and cheese. It's actually pretty good, for processed food. "This isn't a Disney movie. The live-action kind, I mean."

"Or," Pete says, "You could listen. So, basically, there are three groups who run the school. There are the cheerleaders. That's Ashlee, William, Lindsay, Kelly, and the not-so-cute ones. Then there's the football team, which is me and a bunch of really stupid but fun guys. Then there's William's clique, which includes some of the other two groups, but also Jon, Mike, and whoever else he sees fit to include."

"Please shut up," Patrick says. He missed out on public high school the first time around, he doesn't want to be forced to go through it now.

Pete gives him a look and continues. "Then there are the drama nerds. They're losers. And goths. I guess that's sort of what Mikey Way and his stupid brother are. I don't know. They basically suck. Then there are the druggies, like Travie and Bert. Then there are the crazy people, like Frankie Iero and Avril Lavigne."

Patrick sniffs. "We didn't have cliques or goths or anything at the Watcher's Academy."

Pete laughs. "Ok, ok. Sorry. Listen, thanks. For telling me. Warning me. Whatever. I'm still not sure I'm gonna do this. But thanks."

*

Pete wakes up the next day feeling way better about stuff. He actually managed six hours of sleep, which is good, for him. No nightmares, either. He manages to put all this Slayer crap out of his mind at school, so he can focus on Mikey, and making shit better. He tries to treat Mikey like he would William, for a change, flirting and teasing. Mikey looks confused, but pleased.

After school, Pete lets Mikey invite him over, something he's never done before. The Ways live in a really fucking creepy house, all tall and perched on a little hill and covered in flaking white paint. Pete shakes his head. Maybe he gets why Mikey and Gerard are the way they are, a little bit.

They lie side-by-side on Mikey's bed, holding hands and talking shit about people at school. It turns out there are a fair number of people both of them hate. Eventually, Pete props himself up on his elbow and says, "Hey."

"Hey," Mikey says, too-long fingers twining around Pete's.

"Um," Pete said, "What would you say if I told you I'm supposed to kill vampires?"

"Yeaaaah," Mikey says thoughtfully, "Gee says that a lot."

Pete laughs. So, ok. He can do this Slayer thing.

*

After he finishes up at Mikey's–they fucked on the bed, and Mikey sobbed Pete's name when he came–he goes to William's.

William yanks the door open at Pete's knock, bitches him out for coming by so late, and lets him in. "Sit," he says.

Pete ends up collapsing in William's lap and watching tv. "God," he says. "Am I just totally fucking Mikey over?"

William flips his hair. "Probably. You're kind of a jerk and he's kind of a loser. I can't imagine that going well."

Pete sighs. "I know, ok? Am I a jerk to you?"

William nods happily. "Yes. But _I'm_ not in love with you."

Pete sucks in a breath in the stupidly awkward silence, but he lets it go. He always has to let it go, because nothing is ever going to happen. They're not the right kind of people for that, maybe. Instead, they watch tv until it's way too late for either of them to get any sleep at all, and William elbows Pete and tells him to go make popcorn.

Kitchens are for freaking out, Pete has decided. Should he tell William about this Slayer thing? He'd laugh. Then again, he'd probably try to be serious and sincere about it, but he still wouldn't believe it.

"Pete?" William calls from the living room. "Hey, Pete, get in here."

His voice sounds weird, and Pete's stomach flips. He goes back into the living room to find William leaning forward and watching the tv intently. The news is on, and it takes Pete a second to see what William is watching. The newscaster is saying something about breaking news and a _body_, and everything inside Pete freezes as he realizes they're saying _Gerard Way_.

They both stare at the tv until the newscaster has moved on to another topic.

Finally, William breaks the silence. "At lunch the other day," he says. "We shouldn't have."

"Fuck," Pete says. His voice sounds too loud in his ears. "I, I should call Mikey, or something."

William nods.

Pete's hands are shaking when he tries to dial his cell phone. It's not as though he even _liked_ Gerard, and that makes it worse. The phone rings, and Pete's stomach lurches. But then it keeps on ringing, and he's almost relieved when it goes to voicemail. He hangs up. "Shit."

"Yeah," William says. "So. What do we do now?"

Something clicks in Pete's head. "Did it say how he died? Before I came in, did it say?"

"Neck trauma, they said," William says.

And Pete's life, it's fucking _over_, and he knows it.

He leaves William's house and goes and lies on his porch with his cell phone. He doesn't know what else to do, so he calls Patrick, even though it's obscenely late.

*

Patrick wakes up to the unfamiliar sound of his phone ringing. No one's called him since he moved in, and it's a shock. Also a shock is the fact that it's only a few hours until he has to get up for work.

As soon as he mumbles hello into the telephone, Pete cuts him off with, "If I'm the chosen one, then why do I feel so fucked up?"

Patrick wants to say, "Because you're the _teenage_ chosen one. Because being the Slayer doesn't make things better, it makes them worse. Because it's a fucking awful destiny." Instead, he says, "You're still working things out." It's not a lie, and it's surprisingly generous, given the hour.

"Gerard Way is dead," Pete says. "Dead from _neck trauma_. I've told him he should die before. William and I made him feel like shit. We made fun of his art and his clothes and his family. And now he's dead. So what am I supposed to do?"

_God_, Patrick thinks, I _don't know what to do_. "Pete," he says.

"Please," Pete says. He sounds desperate.

Patrick pulls it together. "Listen, that's awful, ok? But I'm going to train you to be so, so good that you can stop a lot of this."

Pete takes a deep breath but he doesn't answer.

"I promise," Patrick says. He doesn't know Pete that well yet, but he's getting that maybe confidence is something Pete needs from other people.

Pete makes a noise which is halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I think I love you, Mr. Stump. Patrick."

*

Mikey avoids Pete at school in the weeks after that. Pete keeps trying to talk to him, but he's kind of glad Mikey doesn't respond. What the hell could Pete say? "I'm sorry I made your brother's life a living hell?"

Pete, meanwhile, is busy avoiding Patrick. He _does_ want to do this Slayer thing, but he's fucking terrified right now. Kids keep disappearing, Frank Iero and Big Hair and Dumb Bob. Pete has made fun of them all, more times than he can count. It ended in black eyes all around with Frank and Bob, but he still feels like shit about it.

The fact that he's been freakishly good at football lately should make him less scared about fighting motherfucking _vampires_, but it doesn't.

And then, two days after Gerard's funeral, Mikey disappears.

Pete goes to Patrick's computer lab after school, feeling disconnected and terrified and _angry_. "Train me," he says. "I don't want anyone else to die. Patrick . . . _please_."

Patrick looks at him. "Pete . . . I, you know what? I really wish the Watcher's Council had spent less time telling me how to train the Slayer to fight and more time telling me how to take _care_ of him. But I'm going to try."

"Can I hug you?" Pete asks. "No, forget it, I'm just going to."

Patrick makes a surprised noise, but Pete doesn't let go.


End file.
